Choices
by Maleficent Angel
Summary: Without giving too much away, one key character from Hunchback acts selflessly, changing the outcome for Phoebus, Esmeralda, Frollo and Quasimodo, amongst others. COMPLETE! At last!
1. Changing the story The miller's family

**Just an idea I had while watching Hunchback again. Like it or loathe it - please review it! Oh yes, The Hunchback of Notre Dame is owned by the Victor Hugo estate (or whoever owns the rights to the novel) and of course Disney's interpretation is owned by the Disney corp and not by me. Please, no suing, they're not mine - I've just playedwith them for a while and I promise to tidy up after I'm done.**

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Esmeralda crouched under the bridge and watched in horror as Phoebus fell to the river below, an arrow embedded in his shoulder. She heard Frollo's commands to rescue his horse and the shouts of the soldiers as they carried out their orders. The miller's family were running into the distance, sobbing fiercely. Esmeralda skidded down the bank and scooped Phoebus from the icy river, kneeling next to him and holding him out of view of the soldiers above. As the cacophony of the chaos above subsided, she pulled Phoebus to the top of the bank and into the nearby copse. Clopin scurried over.

"Is he alive?" whispered Clopin fervently.

"Barely. He would be safe in the cathedral – Quasimodo would help care for him and he could always claim sanctuary." Esmeralda wrapped a cloth around the arrow, intending to remove it later when she could treat the wound fully.

"Why not just leave him here and be done with him? He is one of Frollo's guards."

"He tried to save that family Clopin! And he could easily have dragged me into the street and had me killed, but he had more honour than that! I owe him."

"You like him, don't you?" Clopin gave a thin smile.

"A little. But it's more important to save his life right now." She put an arm under Phoebus' shoulder and hefted, dragged him along with her. Clopin moved to help her and slowly they dragged Phoebus towards Notre Dame.

Esmeralda winced with Phoebus as she poured wine over the wound in his shoulder. She chatted casually with him as she stitched the wound, aware of his closeness and the restful lighting in the belltower. He held her hand and she felt drawn to him, aware that in a few moments they would share their first kiss. Coming to a sudden decision, denying herself and Phoebus that moment, she pulled back.

"Rest now – Quasimodo will be in later to check on you." She walked out of the room, turning her back on Phoebus. Quasimodo was leaning on a windowsill, staring moodily out of the window to the city of Paris. The flames from the poor quarter reflected eerily on the river, the Seine turned amber with the flickering embers of the homes of people Esmeralda had never met. To think Frollo had caused such destruction in search of her made her wince. She touched Quasimodo gently on the arm, causing him to jump.

"Esmeralda! I did not see you! Is the captain well?"

"No Quasimodo. But he will be. Can I ask you to keep him here and out of harm's way until I return? He's stubborn, so tell him I have a plan but for it to work he must stay here. Will you do that for me?"

"Of course! Anything for you Esmeralda!"

"Thank-you Quasimodo. Goodnight." She stroked his face lightly and turned to leave. Djali bounded behind her until she kneeled and took his face in her hands. "Stay here – Quasimodo could use the company." Djali brayed in reply and curled up to sleep. Quasimodo looked quizzically at the gypsy, but she spun on her heels and left without a further word.

The flames of the poor quarter were dying in the early morning light. Frollo stood staring at the flames, hands clenched on the stonework of the balcony of his private chambers. His face unmoving, Frollo watched as black shadows raced in front of burning buildings, trying desperately to control the blaze. Their efforts were finally paying off. Frollo fancied that the Seine was running lower this morning, most of the water seemingly poured over the city. He stood rigidly, muscles locked as he looked at the result of his obsession with a girl he had barely seen since the Festival of Fools. As the sun rose above the horizon, the first shafts of sunlight illuminated his sharp patrician features. His cheeks shone with silent tears that had flowed, unbidden, as he watched the city he loved burn like a funeral pyre. The desecration of the beautiful old city became clearer as the sun rose higher. Frollo felt the night-chill leaving the air around him and started to shiver, suddenly aware of how cold he was. He gulped air as the sun reached the docks, now burned and beyond repair.

"What have I done?" he whispered to the morning. Unable to carry on watching the horror unfolding in front of him, guilt forcing him to continue, Frollo felt his heart breaking. He had prided himself on his utter control of every situation, his reputation and his unyielding loyalty to the king and Paris. What would the king say when he returned from Spain and saw Paris destroyed? Frollo closed his pained eyes and sank to his knees, crawling into his bedchamber and drawing the curtains to the world. Alone, Frollo gave a pained howl to the dawn, his agony pouring into the expression as he tore at his greying hair. Collapsing into sobs, he held his knees to his chest as he let his pain pour into his tears. After some time, he quietened and he pulled on the bell-pull to summon a maid to fetch water for him to wash ready for the day ahead.

Frollo looked into his mirror and straightened his hat slowly. He met his own gaze for a moment and looked away, unable to accept he had committed such atrocities the night before. I tried to burn a family alive, he thought. He saw the baby's innocent face and shut his eyes against the sight, terrified again for his immortal soul. If it hadn't been for Phoebus that family would be dead, his mind scolded, but then you've always been lucky in that respect haven't you Frollo? It was lucky for Quasimodo that the Archdeacon had happened to be there – lucky for the miller that the brave captain had been there. Frollo stood and walked to the balcony, pulling back the curtains and facing his lady, the city of Paris.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered. He felt his heart reaching out to the city, abandoning himself to the pleasure of belonging to Paris, the city of Saint Genevieve, his only mistress. At least, the only mistress he had needed until he laid eyes on La Esmeralda. He sighed inwardly, then turned to leave the balcony and his chambers. Duty called, as always, but somehow he must now continue the search for Esmeralda while trying to rebuild his city and repair his relationship with her. As he past the curtains, they dropped behind him and closed. Startled, Frollo reached instinctively for the sword at his waist, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him. He relaxed a little, but still felt his nerves poised for a fight with the intruder of his sanctum. The judge inside him already weighing out the sentence for a trespasser, the man inside hoping the intruder had not seen him crying, he turned slowly to greet the invader. Even in the dim light, she was instantly recognisable. It was Esmeralda.


	2. A bargain is struck

Frollo felt his heart skip a beat as he took in the gypsy's appearance. Her skirt flowed delicately around her shapely legs while her hair framed her perfect Romany features, emphasising her emerald green eyes. Frollo reached out a hand to her face, touching her velvet skin with awe. When she did not flinch or force him to remove his hand, Frollo smiled and recovered his composure.

"Gypsy girl," he drawled, "how did you get in here?" The smile faded and he straightened, releasing his sword and folding his arms in front of his chest.

"The Palace of Justice is very heavily ornamented Judge Frollo. It is a matter of moments to scale the wall." Frollo crossed to the window and looked down, eight stories of stonework separating his room from the street below. He made a mental note to have security increased on this side of the building before continuing.

"Why are you here?"

"To make a deal with you. This has to end Frollo – too many people have suffered already. Call off the search – tell them you caught the witch and that she has repented. Let the gypsies in the prison go. Allow Phoebus to return to his position as captain of the guard. Leave my people in peace."

"And in return?"

"You will have me."

"What makes you think I want you?"

"You burned the city last night!"

"A dangerous witch such as yourself must be caught and punished. You left me with no other option."

"Lying suits you very well Frollo. But you and I both know why you were looking for me last night." She stepped forward to Frollo, snaking a hand up and around his face. He shuddered at her touch, revealing some of the lust he felt for her.

"Suppose you were correct. What makes you think I would meet your demands in any case?"

"Because you want me. And if you do what I ask," she added in a whisper, stroking his face, "I will do whatever you ask." Esmeralda slipped her other arm around his waist, drawing him close to her in emphasis of her meaning. Frollo closed his eyes and for a moment looked as though he might object. As Esmeralda lay her head on Frollo's chest, she felt him exhale deeply, the sigh releasing some tension in him as his arms circled her waist. Frollo tilted his head forward and breathed in her perfume. He had dared to hope that this moment would happen, dared to believe he could hold her in his arms without her protesting. Unsure of what to do next, Frollo backed away from the gypsy and held her hands, looking her up and down and considering his options.

"And in return for your… compliance… you ask me to abandon my calling to rid this city of gypsies?"

"Yes."

"And to spare the life of your captain friend?"

"Yes."

"I shall need time to decide." He was aware he was taking a gamble even considering her offer – what would the other nobles think if his crusade against the gypsies suddenly ended? Would she leave him as soon as he had freed the captain and the prisoners? "You will wait in the prison under guard until I have made up my mind."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" Esmeralda pulled her hands away from Frollo and stepped back.

"I will wait here. Out of sight of your maid, of course."

"You ask much in return for your company – what makes you think I will agree to your terms?"

"Because I think you would prefer me to obey you and remain faithfully at your side, instead of running away every chance I get. Trust me to stay here today and I will trust you to free my people. Try to keep me under lock and key or harm my people and I will disappear as silently as I arrived last night."

"If you are not here when I return," said Frollo quietly, pointing menacingly at her breast, "I will assume you have reneged on our agreement and the gypsies will suffer as a result." He turned and left the room without another word. Esmeralda stood watching the door for a moment, silent tears weeping for her lost freedom. She had decided to come to Frollo last night while at the miller's farm. The gypsies and the poor of the city had rallied around her, but it was clear that Frollo was not going to give up until he found her. Esmeralda had decided that her freedom was not worth the suffering of any more innocents. Thus, she had left Phoebus with no promise of any future with her and made her way straight to the Palace of Justice. She had watched Frollo stare out of his window all night; she was crouched amongst the gargoyles above his window. She had heard him scream and seen him weep – both actions she thought the judge incapable of. If her companionship was the only way to buy her people's freedom, then so be it. She would willingly prostitute herself for the cause, if only so no more families would have to suffer.

In the bell tower, Phoebus paced back and forth, waiting for news from or about Esmeralda. He found little comfort in the bell-ringer's presence, finding Quasimodo's eternal optimism a little wearing. Throughout the day, the captain watched as his troops scattered through the city, helping to rebuild the devastated buildings. He wondered at this – surely Frollo could not be admitting that he was wrong and trying to repair the damage? Looking over to the Palace of Justice, Phoebus saw a group of gypsies being thrown out of the palace around noon, apparently free to go on their way. It suddenly hit Phoebus that it would have taken something monumental to change Frollo's mind about the gypsies and his attack on Paris. Suspecting that Esmeralda had surrendered, Phoebus felt the knot in his stomach tighten with the thought she could be Frollo's consort. He had guessed at the judge's fascination with the girl and had long suspected the real reason Esmeralda was being hunted down. He remembered how close he had been to the gypsy the night before and smiled at the memory. Then his frown reappeared as he recalled he was now a fugitive and that any thoughts he might have of rescuing her were futile until he was fully recovered. Cursing the pain in his arm, Phoebus settled down on a chair made from a broken gargoyle. There was nothing he could do but wait for Esmeralda and pray she would not have surrendered to Frollo's will.


	3. Differing from expectations

Frollo entered his room with a candle and clicked the door shut behind him, locking it and pocketing the key. The silent bedroom greeted him, the dark silhouette of his bed standing out against the outline of the window. He waited for a moment, then lit the candles around the room, their flames giving the room an amber glow. Uncertain, he perched on the end of his bed and scanned the room carefully for movement. Perhaps he had been a little too trusting – he had released the gypsies as a goodwill gesture to Esmeralda, removing one of the reasons she had promised to stay with him. His face contorting into an irritated frown, he snarled at the room and stood, unfastening his sword belt and throwing the belt, sword and sheath into a corner in frustration. He tore off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, feeling a fool for trusting the gypsy. Frollo whipped around to face the door, ready to give instructions to the guards to recapture the gypsies released earlier that day and execute them. He stopped. Esmeralda was standing between him and the door, calmly watching his fit of pique. Confused, knowing there was no way she could have slipped past him, he stood open-mouthed as she walked towards him.

"How?" he asked, further conversation failing him.

"Perhaps one day I will teach you. It was – kind – of you to free my friends. And to order your guards to help the peasants rebuild. What do you expect in terms of payment?" She threw back her cloak, revealing a scant dress from one of her dancing shows that barely concealed her modesty. Esmeralda shimmied over to Frollo and wrapped her arms slowly around him, her face unintentionally devoid of emotion. She was trying hard to play this part in order her friends remained safe, but could feel nothing but repulsion for the man now in her arms. Frollo returned the embrace, then lifted Esmeralda's chin with one hand.

"You are truly beautiful," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her lips gently. He stroked Esmeralda's hair gently, content for now to simply gaze at his prize. "Tomorrow I will instruct my soldiers to stop arresting the gypsies – provided of course that they are not breaking the law. Vagrancy is a crime you know Esmeralda – perhaps I could trust you to remind your people? Visit them tomorrow at the Court of Miracles and give them this – I assume one of them will be able to read." He handed her a scroll from his robes with the Laws and Statutes of the City of Paris regarding street entertainers and traders. Frollo had spent the day searching the volumes in the Palace of Justice for a loophole that would give him a reason to allow the gypsies to remain in the city unchallenged. The scroll was to explain the limits of the gypsies freedom within Paris – restricting their activities to entertaining and selling their wares and spelling out in gruesome detail (as only Frollo could) the consequences for any illegal activity in the city. Esmeralda looked down at the scroll, unable to read the Latin scrawl at the top, but recognising the French and hardly daring to believe that Frollo had gone to this much trouble. She looked up at Frollo.

"You would allow me to leave the Palace?" She was surprised to see Frollo smile warmly at her in reply. He nodded slowly and kissed her forehead, still amazed to have her in his arms again.

"Only for a few hours at most. And wherever you have hidden Captain Phoebus, I suggest you visit him tomorrow to give him the good news."

"Good news?"

"Oh, hadn't you heard? The good captain is to serve down in Burgundy, as an instructor in the regiment there. The post brings a promotion, greater responsibility and most importantly of all," he added, "it keeps him away from you."

"Then you don't trust me."

"Not entirely, but more to the point I don't trust him my dear girl. Will you tell him to report to his barracks tomorrow? You can of course make your goodbyes then as well."

"I will tell him." She looked down and felt Frollo pulling away from her, leaving to sit again on the end of his bed. He patted the bed next to him and Esmeralda sat down, pulling her skirts around her. She looked up to Frollo, expecting the inevitable. But Frollo simply carried on gazing at her, occasionally stroking her hair or hands. Esmeralda wondered if this was a game to him and if things were about to get a lot more unpleasant. Instead, Frollo leaned over and kissed her lightly. Esmeralda felt the uncertainty in the kiss and pulled him closer to deepen it, thinking to hasten the end of the evening that she might sleep and allow the oblivion of sleep to take her away from this. She felt Frollo shiver and smiled inwardly. He was as naïve as a schoolboy as far as kissing was concerned – Esmeralda was sure he'd never held a woman before. She broke the kiss and sat back, forcing a smile. Frollo sat frozen for a moment, then opened his eyes and gasped for breath.

"Dinner?" Esmeralda nodded furiously, barely remembering the last time she'd eaten. "Wait here." Frollo swept out of his rooms, almost dancing as he left to fetch the food.

In the bell-tower, Phoebus had fallen asleep on the windowsill facing the Palace of Justice. He awakened to the sound of sobbing. As his eyes fluttered open, he saw Quasimodo crouched on the floor to his right and sobbing quietly into his hands. The boy was holding a crude telescope, one of the old artifacts the cathedral vault held from an invasion of the east by France.

"What is it?" asked Phoebus.

"She's there!" sobbed Quasimodo, pointing to the Palace of Justice. "Look!" He held up the telescope, squinting through the grainy glass to the windows in the building across the way. There was only one lit window. Phoebus focused the spy-glass on the balcony and saw Esmeralda leaning casually against the wall. She was eating something. Phoebus smiled in spite of himself when he saw the way she draped herself on the balcony to watch the street below. Then his smile faded as Frollo joined Esmeralda on the balcony and put a hand on her back, using his free hand to point out something across the city. Phoebus could just make out Frollo's face and saw that he was speaking. Esmeralda laughed. Crushed, Phoebus put down the telescope and sat next to Quasimodo.

"She was kissing him earlier."

"She's only doing this for her friends Quasimodo – she cannot love him."

"It doesn't matter. I had hoped…" sobbed the hunchback, unable to continue. What had he hoped? That a pretty angel would take pity on him and love him?

"So had I Quasi, so had I. Great plan Esmeralda." Phoebus stood and strapped on his sword.

"She said to wait here."

"I know – but I will not remain here while she…"

"What if you get killed? Then her sacrifice will be for nothing." Quasimodo stared blankly ahead and his lips twisted as he thought about Esmeralda. Unwilling to believe he was going to allow Frollo to rape Esmeralda, Phoebus sank to the floor and took a long drink from a wine bottle. Perhaps, if drunk, he could try to forget what was happening across the square.

Esmeralda laughed politely as Frollo recited another 'amusing' anecdote from his day. She was aware that if she had not known about his excesses in terms of genocide and pyromania, tonight would have been a pleasant evening. She took another long swig of wine, hoping that the alcohol would dull her senses for the night ahead. Finally, Frollo took her hands in his and led her to the bed. Esmeralda unfolded herself across the mattress, lying back in what she vaguely remembered through the alcoholic haze was a seductive pose. At least he wouldn't be her first, she thought idly as he lay next to her, embracing her body with his arms and kissing her forehead. She turned to face Frollo and saw him smiling at her, amused by something.

"What?" she asked. When Frollo continued grinning, she lifted herself on her elbows and started pouting. "What?"

"Come here." Frollo reached for Esmeralda and kissed her, Esmeralda hungrily returning the kiss before realising quite what she was doing. She moaned as Frollo held her tighter and ruffled his hair with one hand, clinging to him with the other. Frollo pulled her on top of him, running his hands up her back. Her mind wandered – she puzzled over whether Frollo really was a fast learner or if he had done this before, and wondered if perhaps she was just a very, very good teacher. Deciding she didn't care either way for either question, Esmeralda clung to Frollo and hoped he would get this over with quickly.

Trembling, Frollo broke the kiss and looked at the panting, drunk gypsy in his arms. He lay her back on the bed, pulled the covers over her and stood up. He circled the room, extinguishing the candles, then sat in a chair near the window and poured himself a brandy. He looked back to the bed where Esmeralda was already snoring. Frollo grinned to himself and sipped at the brandy, amused by the idea she had given in so easily to him. Esmeralda had been quite right – he had never kissed a woman before, the thought of his father's reaction (then God's) keeping him well away from the opposite sex. She had been willing to give herself to him tonight and for now that was enough – he would not degrade himself by sleeping with her outside marriage. After all, thought Frollo, I am a good Catholic. The least I can do is ensure she converts to the faith and then marry her before I… He realised he hadn't quite thought this through before chasing the gypsy across Paris. It would take some time to convince Esmeralda to take his faith, and perhaps longer to convince a priest to marry them. Did he even want to get married? Frollo sipped his brandy and slowly nodded off to sleep in his chair, his last conscious thoughts on Esmeralda's dancing at the Festival.


	4. Bible Studies

Esmeralda turned over sleepily and blinked in the morning light. For a moment she writhed in the comfort of the bedsheets before realising where she was. Clutching the sheets to her chest, she sat upright and looked around the room. There was no sign of Frollo and it looked to be around mid-morning. Esmeralda slipped out of the bed and crossed to the window to look out over the city. She took note of the ongoing repairs to buildings and turned back to the room. Frollo had laid out a basin of water next to the fire where it remain warm and had supplied her with a fresh towel. Remembering her promised duties today, she washed quickly and crept out of the door.

Within minutes, Esmeralda was lost inside a maze of halls and an unending throng of Parisians, all jostling to see some clerk or judge – the richest or most unfortunate being sent through to Frollo himself. Unnoticed in the crowd – or perhaps deliberately ignored by the guards on Frollo's orders, she couldn't tell which – she found no trouble in leaving the Palace of Justice and headed out to the city. Heart pounding, she walked to the cathedral to break the news of his reassignment to Phoebus.

Phoebus and Quasimodo turned in unison as the door at the bottom of the spiral staircase creaked open. Expecting Esmeralda and dreading Frollo, Phoebus crouched low behind a gargoyle. Quasimodo quickly cleared any evidence of the captain's presence and pretended to be busy with his diorama of the city below. Scarcely daring to breathe, the two men waited as light footsteps approached up the stairs. Quasimodo smiled as the graceful form of Esmeralda turned the corner, grinning widely as she saw Quasimodo and rushing to him to give an embrace.

"It's Esmeralda, Phoebus – you can get up now." Phoebus stood and rushed at Esmeralda, holding her to him tightly.

"Tell me you didn't…" he started, looking down into her eyes.

"He kissed me. Then he got up. He didn't want to sleep with me last night."

"But if he had, would you have given yourself to him?"

"In a heartbeat. He has promised freedom for my people and for you if I just spend my life with him. What is my life compared with all that?"

"You are worth more than my life and the lives of all the gypsies in France put together! Don't you dare go back to him!"

"You don't understand Phoebus. Every politician in Paris is in awe of him – worse, most of them agree with his genocidal treatment of the gypsies. If I refuse to go back to him, no-one will stand in his way when he wreaks bloody retribution on my people. And your promotion will turn into an execution."

"Promotion?"

"You are to be sent to Burgundy. You must report to your barracks today."

"Why?"

"Because Frollo thinks if you were to remain in Paris, you would attempt to rescue me."

"Damn right I would!"

"Which is precisely why he wants you and I remain far apart."

"I refuse to leave you!"

"You must! I will not watch while Frollo kills my people because you and I wanted to be together. I barely know you Phoebus, it would have been wonderful to find out if we could ever have become more than just friends, but…" She was cut off when Phoebus swept her up into a kiss. Quasimodo looked away, the thought of the two in front of him being in love more than he could bear at the moment.

"He will not have you," stated Phoebus simply, holding her to his chest.

"Please Phoebus, just go to your barracks. I cannot let so many people suffer for us."

"Esmeralda…"

"Goodbye, Phoebus." She broke free and ran from the room, heading down the stairs at lightning speed. Phoebus reached out a hand after her as she fled.

"What will you do?" asked Quasimodo. There was a painful silence.

"I'm going to report to my barracks." Phoebus gathered his cloak and left the bell-tower without a further word.

Esmeralda cried freely as she walked to the cemetery, approaching the patterned headstone that marked the gypsies' entrance to the Court of Miracles still sobbing and unable to focus through bleary eyes. She held a copy of Frollo's declaration of the gypsies' new rights within Paris. It was not long before she met the advance guard, who allowed her to pass without challenge. She found Clopin and pressed the scroll into his hands.

"I've bought your freedom," she whispered bitterly. "Please don't throw it away." Clopin took the scroll and skimmed through the conditions of the 'freedom' granted to the gypsies. They would be allowed to sell their wares and perform street-entertainment for money, but would be restricted to the backroads of Paris and not the main streets. Should any noble or aristocrat order it, the gypsies must concede to be moved from wherever they were working without argument. Any gypsy found thieving would be hanged and any gypsy refusing to move on when instructed to would face a week in the stocks. Other such commandments and punishments were scrawled over the scroll. Esmeralda watched Clopin's face as he read through the parchment.

"This isn't worth your life, Esme."

"Yes it is Clopin. While I am with him he will not harm any gypsies unless he has a damn good reason. He would be – afraid – I might leave."

"Frollo is afraid of nothing."

"I think he's afraid of losing Clopin. If I leave and he cannot get me back, he loses. In his temper about that fact, he would harm you. But if I stay with him, he wins and he will leave our people alone."

"I hate it when you're right."

"I know."

"What of your young captain?"

"Sent to Burgundy. By Frollo."

"Is there any way to change your mind?"

"I cannot see any other way to win our freedom. If you can, please come and see me at the Palace of Justice."

"Frollo would allow that?"

"He allowed me out of the Palace without a guard didn't he?" Esmeralda sighed and looked down. "I need to get back."

"Have you and he, um…?" asked Clopin.

"No. I think he's worried about his immortal soul or some other Christian nonsense."

"I would tell you to corrupt him in revenge for this situation Esme, if only the mental image wasn't so disgusting." Clopin and Esmeralda laughed manically for a moment, then looked at each other sadly.

"Take care, Clopin."

"And you, La Esmeralda." They hugged for the last time and Esmeralda left the Court of Miracles.

Alone in Frollo's apartments, Esmeralda leafed through a book written in Latin. She couldn't read it of course. The ability to read French was a necessity for a gypsy in Paris, but Latin was strictly the reserve of the upper classes of French society. Esmeralda often wondered if the common people who attended mass understood the Latin chants inside the cathedral, or if they simply nodded piously because that was what they were expected to do. She heard Frollo enter the room behind her and turned to face him.

"Reading my dear girl?" Frollo crossed to her and slipped an arm very deliberately around her shoulder and down to the book on the desk.

"Just looking at the pictures." The manuscript in the book was highly illuminated. She had guessed the book had some kind of religious significance from the elaborate decorations of priests, serpents and flowers on the page she had been gazing at for the last five minutes.

"But you can read?"

"French. Not this." She squirmed away from his arm, then remembered herself and rested back against it.

"Do you know what this book is?"

"The bible?"

"Well done! I think perhaps it is time we started to teach you Latin." Frollo lifted Esmeralda out of her seat and sat himself down, pulling her onto his lap and opening the bible to the first page.

"Must we?"

"If you are to become my wife, yes." Frollo held her waist and smiled up at her.

"I would be happy as your mistress. Marriage somehow formalises this arrangement beyond that which it deserves."

"But do you not know that to sleep together before marriage is a great sin?"

"Greater than making a mockery of marriage itself?" Esmeralda watched as Frollo considered her reply.

"No. Not quite. Now, In The Beginning…"

Two weeks later, Esmeralda again perched on Frollo's knee trying to understand the Latin text while they read through the bible together, she realised she had lost the will to live.

"And Shem lived after he begat Arphaxad five hundred years, and begat sons and daughters," droned Frollo, patiently trying to point out the complex grammar in Genesis. Esmeralda realised she'd lost count of who begat who and how old they were when they did their begatting. Or begetting. Or whatever.

"Who is Arphaxad? Is he important?" Frollo turned to her and glared before carrying on.

"And Arphaxad lived five and thirty years, and begat Salah. And Arphaxad lived after he begat Salah four hundred and three years, and begat sons and daughters. And Salah lived thirty years…" Esmeralda shrieked and closed the bible roughly on Frollo's hand. He jumped up in pain, dropping Esmeralda to the floor. She stood and smoothed down her skirt before pointing an accusatory finger at Frollo.

"This is not going to work. I cannot sit here and listen to you droning on about old men having dozens of children whose only great achievements were to have more children! Is there no other way I can learn this language? Or the gist of the bible?"

"No."

"But…"

"No. You must convert to Christianity before the archdeacon will baptise you. Only then will you be eligible to marry in a church. In order for me to marry you, you must be a confirmed Christian. You did say you would do anything for your people." Frollo leered at Esmeralda.

"There are limits," growled Esmeralda in reply. She glanced back at Frollo and forced a smile. His company had not been too tiresome over the last fortnight. She missed Phoebus, her freedom and her people and had gained an impressive knowledge of Hebrew first names. "Could we do something else?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"A walk? We could go for a ride."

"Except that you cannot ride a horse."

"Teach me. No more bible studies today, please!" She walked up to Frollo and looked up at him appealingly, hoping it would work. Frollo responded by leaning over, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her back to the chair. Plonking her in front of the bible with little ceremony, Frollo redirected her attention back to Genesis. He smiled gently as Esmeralda grudgingly opened the book and started to read aloud.

"And begat Eber…"

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In the next chapter… 

**A year has past and Esmeralda has just been made a confirmed member of the Catholic church. A number of relationships have changed – some for the better, some for worse. Stay tuned – I will update soon, I promise.**


	5. Love and Marriage

**Sorry – having re-read the previous chapter it was a little rushed! I shall endeavour to write chapters in weeks when I'm _not_ writing year 9 reports! They've computerised the system now, so I get a whole three lines to describe a child's progress/lack thereof over a term. You get used to leaving out connectives in such situations. Rant over! On with the show.**

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Esmeralda twirled in the mirror once more before removing the white dress Frollo had ordered for this occasion. It had been a long morning and she was relieved to be back at the palace, even if she would not have time to relax before this afternoon's feast. Frollo walked into the room behind her and collapsed onto the desk chair, throwing his hat carelessly across the room onto the bed. He sighed happily, triggering Esmeralda's learned response to go and massage his temples. Frollo rested his head back into her hands and smiled.

"I am so proud of you Esmeralda," said Frollo quietly, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun through the window. "A year from heathen to confirmed member of the church."

"I thought you liked me as a heathen?"

"I prefer you as a Christian."

"Typical. A man finds his perfect woman, only to change her into something else." She pinched Frollo's ear playfully and walked away to remove the white dress behind the screen.

"That hurt!" he accused, turning to face her in his chair.

"Good." Esmeralda emerged a few minutes later in a more casual blue dress.

"You were confirmed less than an hour ago. Already you fall back into your old habits." He stood and crossed to her, reaching out and taking her waist in his hands. "You should be punished for such behaviour."

"Are you volunteering to do the honours?" Esmeralda giggled as Frollo lowered his face to hers and planted a light kiss on her nose.

"Not just now. I have to prepare the speech to deliver to the King and his guests this afternoon."

"I thought you'd written that already?"

"No."

"Could I go out while you work?"

"Of course. Be back by four – I want you to travel with me in the coach." Esmeralda looked up suspiciously at Frollo. She was usually told to arrive at these dinners separately to Frollo to distance the minister from rumours the two were sleeping together. She had also been allocated quarters in a far part of the Palace of Justice for the same reason. This did not stop the two spending most of their waking time together when Frollo was not working.

"What are you up to?"

"My dear Esmeralda, can you not trust me?"

"I've never trusted you."

"I am hiding nothing."

"You lie!" She pulled back from him and danced away. "I'm not coming to the feast if you don't tell me why you want me in the coach." Frollo rolled his eyes and reached out to grab the gypsy as she circled around him, always managing to stay just out of reach. He finally gave up and sat down on the edge of his desk, watching her with a hint of disdain. Esmeralda stopped dancing around and pouted. "You're no fun when you're moody."

"I am not being moody. I simply want you to travel with me in the coach tonight. I swear to you I am not concealing any one thing from you." Esmeralda turned the phrase over in her mind as Frollo sat down and drew a quill out of a drawer to begin scribing his speech.

"Does that mean you're not hiding _anything _or that there's more than one thing you're hiding?" She perched on the arm of Frollo's chair. Without looking at her, Frollo raised his right hand and gave a dismissive wave.

"I am working, gypsy girl, please be gone."

"Yes master," snapped Esmeralda, stopping to pull a face at Frollo.

"Charming. Have fun."

Waltzing around the town, Esmeralda tried to figure out what Frollo was up to. Over the last year, she had seen the old judge change from a genocidal, obsessed maniac into the man who teased her and enjoyed her taunts in return. Of course, as the highest judge in Paris he still dealt out death penalties and the most cruel of punishments to the most depraved of criminals in the city. However Esmeralda felt she had gained an understanding of why the judge was so strict in dealing out punishments. The laws of Paris were strict and almost all criminal offences carried with them lengthy prison sentences at best. Frollo was simply doing his job, albeit with a little too much enthusiasm. She had tried to be impressed when he had boasted how crime rates had dropped since his promotion to minister.

"That's because people are terrified of you Claude!"

"I think that's rather the point Esmeralda…"

"Wouldn't you rather be considered fair than cruel?"

"Not really. Although I would argue I am entirely fair in my dealings with criminals."

"You punish them all indiscriminately."

"Precisely." He had given her what had been, a year ago, a rare smile and held her close. She had realised then that there was some truth in what he had said – regardless of class, all criminals suffered at the hands of Frollo and his torturers. Although, he had found rather a lot of 'legitimate' excuses to harm her people.

Turning the corner, Esmeralda thought back to another occasion when a group of gypsies had been caught begging for food near the King's palace. She had begged Frollo to show mercy and he had refused, telling her that if he showed weakness on this occasion, further indiscretions by the gypsies would follow. However, when the terrified family had been brought before Frollo a few days later for sentencing, they had been given only a month's imprisonment and Frollo had ensured they were given food enough to last them a week when they left. They had not been beaten nor mistreated while in prison and although Frollo would never admit it, Esmeralda knew she had tempered his response to the gypsies during the last year. She didn't want to admit it, but as she became more accustomed to Frollo's continuous presence she was finding him less repulsive. In fact, despite her own dislike of his treatment of her people, she was starting to enjoy his company more and more and looked forward to the time they spent together. Since her first day at the Palace of Justice, Frollo had insisted on his being allowed to hold, touch and kiss her at will, something Esmeralda had found loathsome at first. She didn't know exactly when the dislike of this treatment had turned to acceptance, nor when the acceptance had turned to expectance.

Up ahead, a group of people was gathered around a small knot of soldiers. In the centre of the group was Phoebus, his blonde hair shining in the spring sunlight. Esmeralda spotted him straight away and darted behind a stall while she found out what was going on. Edging closer, her gypsy instincts keeping her hidden, she listened intently to the soldiers' conversation.

"We met near a border town and I offered to escort Mademoiselle DeLys back to Paris when our regiment returned." He pulled an attractive blonde girl closer to him, holding her waist and smiling down at her.

"And now you're marrying her!" guffawed a lieutenant.

"Of course. Tomorrow in fact," grinned Phoebus. "I shall see you later Fleur, I have some business to attend to." He pecked Fleur DeLys on the cheek lightly and turned to the remainder of his company. "Jaques, I hereby order you to escort my fiancée home."

"Yes sir captain sir!"

"And don't forget your appointment at Saint Martins tomorrow at eleven!"

"Of course not sir!" Phoebus saluted his comrades, turned on his heel and headed for Notre Dame, Esmeralda following in the shadows.

"Phoebus – you're back!" Quasimodo ran over to the captain as he turned the corner at the top of the staircase.

"Hey Quasi."

"I thought you were posted out in Burgundy forever?"

"Frollo changed his mind. When he found out I wanted to get married and the girl was from Paris, he agreed to allow me to return with the latest batch of recruits."

"Who are you marrying?" asked Quasimodo, puzzled. "What about Esmeralda?"

"I grieved for the loss of Esmeralda for months. Then one day Fleur walked into the border town I was recruiting in and I fell for her. I will always care for Esmeralda, but I love Fleur DeLys. I want to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. Besides, Esmeralda has Frollo."

"She doesn't love Frollo – she loves you!"

"It's too late. I came to see you Quasimodo, not Esmeralda. How has Frollo been treating you?"

"He has been – kinder – lately." The two continued talking, Quasimodo returning to the subject of Esmeralda again and again to try and change the captain's mind about Fleur DeLys. Phoebus had fallen in love with the stunning Parisienne however – and nothing Quasimodo could say would change his mind.

Esmeralda fought back tears and pressed herself deeper into the beams of the belltower. Phoebus had not seen her follow him into the cathedral and she had managed to eavesdrop unnoticed on the entire conversation. As she heard Phoebus making his goodbyes to his old friend, she slipped down the stairs and out of the tower. She hid behind a pillar and watched Phoebus leave, hot tears now burning her cheeks. She waited until she thought Phoebus had had enough time to leave the square outside the cathedral, then ran out and back to the Palace of Justice.

Frollo was practising his speech in front of the mirror when Esmeralda, red-eyed and dishevelled, ran into his room. Frollo stopped, turned to face her, then dropped his speech and walked over to comfort her.

"What is it my dear?"

"Why didn't you tell me? How could you not tell me?" As Frollo touched her arms in a gesture of comfort-giving, Esmeralda pounded her fists into his chest. "Why didn't you tell me?" she screeched.

"Is this about Captain Phoebus?" asked Frollo quietly, dreading the answer.

"Yes! He is to be married tomorrow and I heard him tell Quasimodo he no longer loves me and…"

"And as you are my companion now, that should not concern you." Frollo looked down at Esmeralda and took her chin gently in one hand. "I ordered him to leave the city simply to keep the two of you apart. Fleur DeLys is the daughter of one of the king's advisors – it would have been improper for her to be married away from the city. Had it not been for her father's insistence, Phoebus would not have returned to the city and you would never have found out about his marriage."

"You wouldn't have told me?"

"No. What would have been the point Esmeralda? You have sworn to be my consort, my wife one day, yet you refuse to let go of the childish fantasy that Phoebus will come and sweep you away from all of this. I thought if I kept all mention of Phoebus from you, you would one day forget him. Clearly I was mistaken." Frollo released her and sat down on the end of his bed, pain etched on his face and his movement stiff, unyielding.

"Would you like me to leave the room?" asked Esmeralda.

"No. I thought you were starting to enjoy my company?"

"I am! I do!" replied Esmeralda, astonished to realise it was true.

"Not enough, it would appear. Not enough." Frollo rose and left the room, slamming the door behind him in a manner that stopped Esmeralda from following him. Alone now, Esmeralda sank to the floor and cried for the loss of the love Phoebus had held for her. After a while, she composed herself and stood, straightening her dress. It was then she realised Frollo had laid out her clothes ready for the feast that afternoon. As she scanned the room for other items he may have moved, Esmeralda saw Frollo's speech on the floor and picked it up to read it. Amongst the usual thanks to nobles on behalf of the king, remarks about the justice, crime levels and effectiveness of punishments in Paris, there was one line in particular that caught her eye.

It is with great pleasure that I would like to thank His Royal Highness for giving me permission to marry my student La Esmeralda.

He had always talked about their getting married, but this was the first time she was aware of he had mentioned it to anyone else – he was practically announcing his intent to the whole of Paris! Esmeralda felt her head swim. The last thing she had expected today was to see Phoebus with his fiancée, though finding out her relationship with Frollo was to be moved to a more official level would come a close second. She held the speech in her head while she thought about the last year. Phoebus had his beautiful fiancée who he adored – nothing would change that. As for her, she had Minister Frollo as her partner, soon to be fiancé from the look of the speech and she knew he was completely under her spell. Even if he was twice her age and not much to look at with a penchant for genocide…

"If nothing else, he would love me. And he cannot live forever and my people need me to keep this bargain." She spoke to the empty room, half-hoping Frollo would be listening outside the door. With the parchment in her hand, she left to find Claude Frollo and finalise their arrangement by accepting his proposal.


	6. The Feast

**Hi there! Thanks for still bearing with me. Apologies to those who have disliked this story thus far. Further apologies to those who have liked this story and have been waiting FOREVER for an update! Well done to Spaztic Arwen for spotting the link to the novel. **

**A Merry Christmas to you all!**

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Esmeralda walked through the private apartments, looking for Frollo whilst still feeling nauseous over the prepared speech in her hand. Frollo was never going to become her ideal man, but she was aware of her obligation to marry him now that he asked in return for the gypsies' freedom. Finally, after half an hour of searching, she headed down to the stables, aware that they would soon have to leave for the palace and that Frollo could be down there preparing for the journey. 

Frollo paced the floor of the dungeons irritably. He had been informed of Phoebus' intention to marry some months before when Monsieur DeLys, Fleur's father, had begged that Phoebus be allowed to return to Paris for the ceremony. Frollo also knew that it had been a mistake to hide that knowledge from Esmeralda. He had hoped that over time her feelings towards him may warm and that she could one day love him. Cursing himself as a fool, Frollo stalked down to the cells to amuse himself with the macabre sight of the imprisoned.

Waiting in the carriage for Frollo, Esmeralda read through his speech one last time before folding it and placing it safely in a pocket. It was becoming more difficult for her to remember how cruel Frollo had been only a year ago. He had changed and she knew that her influence had been the catalyst, but still could not accept that this change was permanent – she kept expecting to return to the Palace of Justice one day and find he had killed every last gypsy. His kindness towards her aside, the people of Paris had also noticed the reduction in violent punishments for crimes over the last year. Some were even saying that Frollo had lost his touch and Paris was likely to suffer from increased crime due to this more lenient approach. Of course, while the gypsies understood their precarious predicament and did not dare to commit any crime, the other criminal elements in Paris were waiting to take advantage of any situation. From across the courtyard, Esmeralda heard a group of children playing and singing on the other side of the wall. To stave off boredom and pass the time until Frollo's reappearance, she descended from the carriage and walked over to the gate, the better to listen to their song.

Frollo peered through the gloom of one of the cells at the prostrate man groaning in agony amongst the filthy straw. The man was a spy from England, caught amongst the throng of merchants that had arrived a month earlier. Frollo had slightly more sympathy with spies than he did with gypsies – he could at least admire their desire to serve their country. He opened the cell door and kneeled next to the groaning man, throwing water over him to bring him to his senses.

"I ask you again – who sent you? Was it the King?" The spy spat at Frollo in response, curling into a ball as he hugged his pained stomach. Frollo repeated the question in English, but still received no response. He had been asked by the King of France himself to report this spy's intention within Paris, but had thus far been unable to ascertain the man's mission despite numerous torture and interrogation sessions. Standing, his patience wearing thin, Frollo kicked out at the spy and turned to leave with a snarl. Without warning, the spy lashed out and tripped Frollo, who fell awkwardly onto the cell floor.

"Guards!" shouted Frollo as he felt the spy crawl onto his back, pummelling his fists into Frollo's skull. So he was feigning illness, thought Frollo. How ridiculous for me to fall for that trick. Perhaps I am losing my touch. Frollo jerked backwards, elbowing the spy off him and rolling to take the spy's throat in his hands. "Guards!" The man's nails dug into Frollo's face and he shrieked as the spy's foot made contact with his leg. A fist flew to Frollo's stomach and winded him, causing him to lose his grip. For the next few minutes, Frollo was aware of nothing except the pounding of his heart and an overwhelming urge to stay alive. When the guards arrived, it was to find a bruised and dishevelled Frollo, dagger in hand, standing over the corpse of the English spy.

The children's voices drifted to Esmeralda over the wall.

"_I saw a gypsy come dancing by_

_On All Fools Day, on All Fool's Day,_

_That gypsy's dancing is divine_

_By all that's holy I'll make her mine._

**I killed for pleasure, tortured for fame,**

**But then the gypsy kissed me,**

**And with that I let the gypsies free**

**And all the thieves besides.**

_And now my city laughs at me_

_On All Fools Day, On All Fools Day_

_My gypsy's fee – the thieves run free!_

_On All Fool's Day in the morning_."

She stiffened as she realised the connotations of the song – Frollo had lost control, and he had a gypsy whore in the Palace of Justice. She had heard the soldiers singing snatches of that song, but they had always become silent when she approached so she had never heard it in its entirety. She had been too naïve to think that no-one would comment on her presence in the Palace of Justice and that no-one would guess Frollo's intentions. The song was ill-composed, but she guessed it had originated from the soldiers and filtered down to the children. Wishing she had never left the carriage, she headed back with a heavy heart. It had not been her intention for the townsfolk to hate her and brand her a whore. Even if that's what she felt she was. Safe in the carriage, she looked out at the walls around her moodily. Perhaps this was why gypsies always moved on and didn't live behind stone walls.

Frollo straightened his hat and looked in the mirror. A shining black eye greeted him and he gave an irritated grunt. Knowing that he could not turn down the king's invitation, he walked down to the carriage, all the while imagining the comments that would be passed at the feast. No matter how hard he had tortured his prisoners, Frollo had never been hit himself – the prisoner always cowering in fear before him. The spy had never cowered, never betrayed his master, the King of England. He had tried to kill Frollo – something unheard of before today. Frollo was always armed to the teeth, but rarely needed the sword or dagger he carried. Not only was he now in need of those weapons, but people were starting to lose respect for him as well. Pulling himself up into the carriage, he regarded Esmeralda and wondered what comment she would make. He watched as her eyes widened in shock as she noticed the black eye. Summoning the driver, Frollo barked out the command to head to the King's Palace.

"What happened?" asked Esmeralda.

"The spy I told you about. He tried to kill me."

"Where is he now?"

"Dead."

"You ordered the guards to kill him? But you know the King wanted him alive!" Esmeralda kept looking at Frollo and he started to panic. She was right, of course, he had disobeyed orders. Then again, he would be dead right now and the King would have lost a Minister Of Justice, not just a prisoner.

"No, I killed him in self-defence." Even the King couldn't argue with that, thought Frollo.

"Why were you in the cell? I thought you'd walked off to get ready." A hundred different excuses jostled for attention in Frollo's mind. The King needed answers. I thought I'd patrol the cells once more today. I heard a disturbance and went to investigate. To his extreme irritation, the truth edged forward. You hurt me, and I needed to pass that hurt on to someone I thought would not fight back.

"The King needed to know why the spy was here." Frollo let the lie slip and sat back, closing his eyes. Perhaps it would be easier to have her believe the lie, rather than admit that his base instincts had once again broken through his calm exterior. Esmeralda sat quietly, knowing that the King would be angry with Frollo's actions. She decided to lighten the mood and reached into her pocket, bringing out the speech.

"You dropped this," she half-whispered, passing over the paper with a smile. Frollo took the speech, ripped it in half and dropped it to the floor.

"I don't need it anymore. I take it you read it?"

"Yes. I don't understand – why don't you need it?"

"Because I don't expect to hold my position in the city for very much longer. I will be unable to honour my side of our bargain. You are free to go." He hammered on the wall of the carriage behind him and shouted to the driver to stop. He rose, opened the door of the carriage and dropped to the ground, reaching up a hand to help Esmeralda to descend.

"But my people…"

"Rest assured, while I remain as Minister of Justice, they will not be harmed. Goodbye Esmeralda." He lifted the gypsy down, staring blankly ahead as he deposited a bag of coins into her hand. "Buy a house, a farm, or take the money to your people. Make sure I never see you again." Frollo entered the carriage and the driver cracked his whip. Within moments, Esmeralda was alone on the streets of Paris with more money than she ever thought she'd see. She thought for a few seconds, then ran to the cathedral.

Frollo arrived at the King's Palace and looked around. He was used to attracting covetous stares from the crowd, knowing each lord envied the attention lavished on him by Esmeralda. He had been blind to the danger of appearing weak, thinking that his more lenient approach had gone unnoticed given that the crime rate had not risen. In reality, the crimes committed by non-gypsies had doubled, while crimes committed by gypsies had all but stopped. There was a different atmosphere in the room tonight – he could feel predatory stares from his fellow justices and saw some nobles obviously enjoying a joke at his expense. The realisation hit Frollo as he milled through the crowd – he was not walking out of the Palace tonight. He had let the crime rate effectively rise, he had become a laughing stock. His high principles had been exposed as hypocrisy and the King's trust in him had waned. He saw the King ahead of him, beckoning Frollo to his side. Frollo moved forward, feeling drunk with fear. He bowed and waited for the monarch to speak.

"Minister Frollo, how wonderful that you managed to attend."

"It is my pleasure to be in your company, your majesty."

"May I ask what happened to your eye?" Frollo looked up at the king, averting his eyes only slightly from his face.

"I had hoped we might discuss that in private sire. It concerns the English gentleman we are both acquainted with." The king nodded, almost imperceptibly, and signalled for Frollo to follow him. Once clear of the ballroom, the King turned to Frollo and stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Frollo felt the king's eyes boring through him and hoped against experience that the king would not notice when he lied. If he had to lie, of course. He decided to keep his explanation brief.

"I was in the spy's cell trying to extract information pertaining to his mission when he attacked me sire. I had no alternative but to kill him."

"Did you not think to call the guards?"

"I did sire, twice, but they did not come in time."

"I wonder why…" the king turned his back on Frollo and examined a table laden with food. "It seems Frollo that you do not hold my orders in high enough regard."

"Of course I do! I have spent my life serving you your majesty! Nothing is of more importance to me than your happiness sire."

"Apart from your life, it would appear." The king turned to Frollo with another fixed stare.

"You mean I should have allowed him to kill me sire?" Frollo stood aghast, unwilling to accept this.

"No Frollo. I mean you should have been more careful. How dare you lie and say the guards did not respond? We all know the tortures you force your prisoners to endure. You took it too far and killed the man. Father warned me of your lust for blood."

"Sire I assure you there is no lie in what I have told you." Frollo backed away as the King advanced on him.

"Guards!"

"Please, sire, I beg you…" Four guards appeared noiselessly from behind a curtain. Frollo was not surprised to find one of them was Captain Phoebus. It seemed Fate was enjoying a joke at his expense tonightas well.

"Take him to the Palace of Justice. Better yet – imprison him here where his gypsy whore cannot be tempted to set him free." Frollo stood rigid as the guards advanced.

"What will happen to me sire?"

"Perhaps I shall let you go. It is not your fault that age has made you incompetent. Banishment is the traditional punishment for aristocratic lunacy. Or perhaps I shall have you killed. I would do well to remember your behaviour since you took in that gypsy. It would be a fitting example for the people of Paris to see the chaste, virtuous Minister of Justice punished for his crimes. You must excuse me Frollo. I have to go and promote Judge Bourbon to your former position. Perhaps he will be able to reverse the damage you have done to this city." The King swept out of the room. Frollo went numb as he was escorted down to the dungeons and barely noticed when he was thrown into a cell.

Hours passed and the cell grew darker with the coming of night. Frollo gave a silent thanks to God for making him think to drop Esmeralda off and not take her to the Palace. He hoped she would not try to return to the Palace of Justice and that she would remain out of sight. He lay back awkwardly on the bench that was serving as a temporary bed. He sifted through the King's conversation in his mind. It had seemed dreadfully staged, as though the king already knew what had happened. But that would be impossible, unless there was a spy inside the Palace of Justice. Frollo sat up. Assuming there was a spy in the Palace of Justice, then the king would know that Frollo had shouted for help. Unless of course… Frollo gave a small laugh that had nothing to do with humour. He'd been set up. Someone, one of the nobles perhaps, had disapproved of his better treatment of the gypsies and decided to take revenge. She really did cloud my judgement, thought Frollo. He lay back again, trying to think of some way out of this situation. Outside his cell, two guards hummed a tuneless dirge as the night drew on.


	7. On the run

It's been far too long between updates – sorry folks! I do honestly have a long list of depressing reasons – anyone who cares can e-mail me for details, but sufficeth to say that they involve my parents, MS, a nursing home and a hospital.

**Anyway, where were we? Frollo had released Esmeralda with a bag of cash to set her up for life (and probably most of her friends as well). She has headed for the cathedral. Phoebus is shortly to be married to Fleur DeLys. Frollo has been imprisoned by the King for allowing the gypsies to run free in Paris. The former Minister of Justice is languishing in his cell while outside the gypsies (and Quasimodo) are unaware of the change of circumstances.**

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Esmeralda entered the cathedral, bolting past the archdeacon and heading straight up the spiral staircase. She burst into the ante-room below the belfry, searching for Quasimodo. The hunchback was huddled over a model of the Palace of Justice, repairing a broken castellation. 

"Quasi!" Esmeralda ran over to Quasimodo and took his hands in hers.

"What is it Esme? Are you alright?"

"Yes – Frollo said he was letting me go. I think he's in trouble Quasi. He says he was attacked by a prisoner and then killed in self-defence, but there's more to it than that." Quasimodo walked away from Esmeralda and stared out at the city. "Quasi – did you hear what I said?"

"The city's changing."

"Pardon?" Esmeralda walked up to the window.

"Can't you see it Esme?" whispered a voice from behind a pillar. Esmeralda spun around, ready to defend herself and the hunchback from the voice. As the figure walked into the light, Esmeralda relaxed as Clopin's sharp features came into focus. "Every night, a small division of soldiers leaves the Palace of Justice on Frollo's orders to patrol the streets as a show of force to ensure none of the gypsies are breaking the law."

"Yes? And?" snapped Esmeralda.

"Look down there. And stop looking at it like a noble, watching the colours flash by while you waltz around your oh-so-important life. Look at the streets like a gypsy."

Esmeralda looked down. There was the nightwatch, a group of surly soldiers in the traditional garb. The watch usually rode out in groups of four, a miniature show of force that was almost unnecessary thanks to the gypsies' adherence to the curfew. There were six soldiers in this group. Perhaps there had been trouble tonight. As Esmeralda continued to watch, she saw more and more groups of soldiers, cantering through streets. She watched as gypsies, unused now to expecting trouble from the soldiers for no good reason, scrambled for escape as they realised too late that the law had changed.

"You told me yesterday that Frollo was determined to keep the gypsies safe," drawled Clopin.

"He was – he is…" stammered Esmeralda, tearing herself away from the image of gypsies being corralled into the town square. A group of soldiers detached from the cluster in the square and headed towards the cathedral.

"Were you followed?" demanded Clopin.

"No. You?"

"Of course not. So why…" Both gypsies turned towards Quasimodo as realisation dawned.

"There's a back door. They won't have surrounded the cathedral yet." Esmeralda grabbed Quasimodo's arm. "We have to leave. I know a few places they won't look for a while – we can hide there until we find out what is going on."

"Why do I need to leave? This is my home." Quasimodo looked desperately around the room.

"Quasi, Claude always promised to take care of my people and of you, right?"

"Right," answered Quasi, while in the background Clopin rolled his eyes and muttered "Claude!"

"He would never do this. But I think someone is sending soldiers after you right now and we have to get out of here. We have to help him."

"Okay."

"Quickly, before they get to the stairs," urged Clopin.

* * *

Staring out at the night through the barred window above him, Frollo sighed again. As expected, various screams and protestations from outside revealed that the new Minister of Justice was dispensing justice with the red-hot-poker style enthusiasm that he would previously have approved of. It wouldn't be long now before all the gypsies were rounded up and either killed or transported out of the city. The previous king had been more sympathetic to the Romany travellers, but this new one… Frollo was right behind the correct dispensation of punishment, preferably to the point of redeeming the offender's soul. However, while he would admit to occasionally enjoying the sight of a hardened criminal reduced to a gibbering wreck, he did not revel in unnecessary punishment (whilst, of course, being bang alongside necessary punishment. There were, Frollo felt, sufficient reasons for _necessary_ punishment - such as being the wrong creed, the wrong nationality, the wrong-sort-of-person-in-the-worng-place-at-the-wrong-time - without resorting to _unnecessary_ punishment). The new king lusted for power and if that power could be gained at the point of a sword, so much the better. Or at the tip of the aforementioned poker, or a cat-of-nine-tails, depending on his majesty's mood. Frollo knew now he had been a fool to think that the king could have ever wanted to include the gypsies in Parisian society. Frowning in the darkness, knowing now that _Minister_ Bourbon would be torturing gypsies even as he sat there, stewing in his prison cell, Frollo tried to think of an escape plan. The high walls and thick oak door stared back, mocking him with the inevitable failure of any escape attempt. Damn his thoroughness in designing that dungeon…

* * *

Esmeralda dragged Quasimodo and Clopin through a doorway and the three panted for breath. 

"Great idea Esme, ten out of ten," gasped Clopin. "Who else would have thought of hiding from the soldiers in the _barracks._"

"Clopin, where are all the soldiers at the moment?"

"On the streets. But after they've patrolled the streets, they'll come back here and then we are dead."

"Only if he's not here…" Esmeralda darted quickly down a corridor, counting doors as she went. As she got to number fourteen, she rapped smartly onto the door. A dishevelled Phoebus opened it. Quasimodo and Clopin raised their eyebrows inquisitively. "I found out where Phoebus' room was some time ago, just in case. Can we come in?" she turned to Phoebus, her eyes wide and appealing. Phoebus waved the group in, checked for spies in the corridor, and shut the door.

* * *

_Sorry it's been so long - the next chapter is on its way - I promise!_


	8. The Great Escape

**I know - it's been far too long. I wrote myself into a corner I could not get out of. I'm sorry, but now without further ado, on with the next chapter.**

* * *

Phoebus leaned back against the door, drew in a deep breath and surveyed the three outcasts in front of him.

"It's wonderful to see you Esmeralda, but what is going on?"

"I think Frollo's in trouble. Soldiers are rounding up the gypsies even as we speak and some even went into the cathedral after Quasimodo!" Esmeralda looked down at the floor and fought back tears. "He let me out of the carriage on the way to the palace – he knew there was something wrong. I should be there with him now." Her eyes misted, unbidden compassion for Frollo finally breaking through her strong exterior.

"Were you followed?"

"I don't think so. Will you help us Phoebus? Do you know what's going on?" Esmeralda crossed to Phoebus and laid her hand on his arm briefly.

"Take a seat, all of you. I was on duty at the Royal Palace earlier. You are correct, Esme, Frollo is in trouble. The king has disapproved of his actions towards the gypsies for some time. He always shared Frollo's dislike of the gypsies and rejoiced when the minister used to find excuses to persecute them. Of course, over the last year your dear Frollo has allowed the gypsies greater freedoms than they have ever experienced before. This has understandably upset the king, as has the increased crime rate amongst the normal people of Paris."

"Why didn't he say any of this to Frollo? He would have been able to change some of the laws and I could have warned the gypsies to stay away from Paris!"

"It was precisely because you would have warned the gypsies that Frollo's first real warning was tonight. The king and the new Minister Bourbon have been plotting for months about how they could prove Frollo's incompetence, remove him and eradicate the gypsies once and for all. When an English spy was caught near Cologne, they realised they could use the man to break Frollo."

"Frollo said the spy would not give up any information – that he had never seen a man endure torture to that degree without revealing something of his mission." Esmeralda shuddered as she realised what she'd just said.

"And you still have feelings for the man?" asked Clopin, disbelievingly. Phoebus continued, ignoring Clopin.

"The spy had already given up the little information he held when he was imprisoned at Cologne. But Frollo was told that this minor spy was of high importance and to keep him alive at all costs. The poor man was drugged daily by his guards in order that he might never reveal that he had already been interrogated. The king knew that eventually Frollo's patience would crack and that he would kill the man."

"Frollo said he was attacked."

"I wouldn't be surprised. The guards were paid to don black capes and copycat hats in order to impersonate Frollo while torturing the spy. Of course, they also fed the spy well and kept him on a drug-induced high so that one day the spy would turn on Frollo. When he did, they simply ignored Frollo's cries for help until he had killed the spy."

"But Master Frollo could have been killed!" cried Quasimodo. Phoebus shrugged.

"Either way, the king could legitimately replace Frollo as Minister of Justice." There was a long, drawn-out, uncomfortable silence.

"When did you discover the truth?" asked Esmeralda finally.

"Earlier this evening. The king thought it would be fitting if I was one of the four guards who arrested Frollo. He told me everything."

"Where is Frollo now?" asked Clopin.

"Languishing in a prison cell in the Royal Palace. Rescue attempts are not recommended."

"What are we to do?" lamented Esmeralda. "I cannot leave him there to rot! Besides which, if Minister Bourbon is half as efficient as Frollo used to be, all the gypsies will be dead by morning – none of them are really adept at hiding anymore!"

"I fail to see what you think I can do to help," Phoebus sunk onto a chair. "The king will be attending my marriage at 11 o'clock tomorrow morning. And Fleur would kill me if I wasn't there."

"Eleven?" Clopin looked thoughtful.

"Yes, why?"

"I take it, given Mademoiselle DeLys' standing and her father's influence, many of the aristocracy will be at the church as well?"

"Yes. St Martins – about a quarter of an hour's carriage ride from the Royal Palace." Phoebus leaned closer to Clopin.

"I suppose many of the soldiers will be occupied with security then, given His Royal Highness will be there?" Clopin gave a slow grin as he continued. "Which means the security around the palace will be lowered."

"You realise it is unlikely that Frollo will be allowed to return as Minister of Justice, don't you? By the time we rescue him, Bourbon will have complete control of Paris," interrupted Quasimodo.

"That depends Quasi. Bourbon's father was once head of a street gang and that is the only reason his family has money. And Bourbon makes a habit of visiting the red-light district every Saturday. He has kept his clandestine antics hidden from most of the aristocracy however and I doubt the king is aware of them." Esmeralda looked up, a new brightness entering her eyes as she realised the usefulness of the information.

"How do you know this?" asked Clopin. Esmeralda smiled.

"Frollo has spies everywhere. Most of them are my friends however I guess that Bourbon and the king must have evaded them while plotting against Frollo."

"Alright. We know what we have to do," said Clopin, exhaling as he relaxed. "Phoebus – we need to hide here tonight. Is that alright with you?" Phoebus nodded. "Excellent. Tomorrow Phoebus will go and marry Fleur DeLys and live happily every after. If we are caught, we do not mention the good captain's part in this and of course Phoebus as far as you are concerned, you never saw us. This is what we are going to do next…"

* * *

Frollo suddenly found he had a longing to throw himself at the door and beg for mercy. He didn't know whether it was some kind of programmed reaction to being locked inside a prison cell, or whether he just felt like some exercise. The sun was attempting to invade through the small, grilled window. He was losing some of his sanity, he was sure of it. There was no other explanation for the elation he felt at realising that even the sun could not break into the prison he designed with the former king. He wondered if this was why it was usually so easy to break a prisoner to obtain a confession. He was almost ready to confess to lunacy after only one night – how about after a week of this? Or a month? On top of everything, his black eye had come out fully by now and was throbbing with pain. Frollo picked up a stone and threw it at the wall, watching as it bounced back. He repeated the action a few times, feeling oddly soothed as if this was how one survived such a situation.

The sun rose higher in the sky. Outside, the guards changed and rather than being the humming sort, they were the sing tunelessly sort. After hearing "I saw a gypsy come dancing by" once, he sat and fumed about the implications of the song and realised that he should have allowed his relationship with Esmeralda to be more public in order that the gossip-mongerers would not have branded her a whore and rather his consort. He wouldn't have been the first minister to take a low-class wife. After the second time of hearing the song, he started plotting revenge on that bastard Bourbon. After the third, he started to watch the small square of sunlight move across the floor as the sun rose higher. Somewhere, water was dripping. The guards seemed to never tire of the song and as it was sung for the fourth time Frollo tried to concentrate on the dripping water instead. During the fifth rendition, he tried willing himself deaf.

It was while the guards were droning the song for the tenth time that Frollo realised there was a change in the lyrics. They were attempting to make the song cruder, adding more explicit lyrics with each line. Frollo listened to his language being tortured and raped in the corridor outside and wished for a quick death within the next five minutes. Then there was silence. I've gone deaf, thank you God, oh thank you. Frollo smiled insanely. The smile froze as one of the guards coughed and started talking.

"What rhymes with luck?" Frollo cringed. He willed himself not to hear the inevitable reply, and focused on the square of light on the floor. It flickered. Frollo blinked and looked back, missing the reply as he concentrated. The guards laughter was easily ignored as the light flickered again. And again. And again.

"I saw a gypsy dancing by,

On All Fool's Day, On All Fool's Day,"

Frollo held his knees to his chest and rocked ever so slightly backwards and forwards. Maybe these loons had been paid extra by the king to drive him insane. As someone who loved the fine arts, opera and music in general, this was the extreme in mental torture.

"As I left, they all wished me luck,

On All Fool's Day, On All Fool's Day,"

Here it comes, thought Frollo. The rhyme they've spent the last hour trying to construct.

"And as I later gave…urgh" There were two soft thuds outside the door. Frollo sat up straighter. That doesn't rhyme in the slightest, whispered a little voice in his head. It was the same voice that had been impressed by the lack of sunlight. He glared at the door, forcing the insane little voice back into hiding. Fervent whispering was followed by the scrape of various keys in the lock. He crept over to the door and, hoping he was right, whispered through the keyhole.

"It's the big black one!"

"Thanks!" replied a hoarse whisper. The creaking door swung back. Clopin stood in the doorway, two young gypsy men and Esmeralda behind him. "We have about thirty seconds to get out of here. Come on."

"Wait – hide the bodies in the cell." Frollo lifted one guard and dragged him back, Clopin doing the same to the other guard.

"They are still alive, but I take your point. Less likely to warn others when they awaken."

"What did you do to them?"

"Old gypsy trick. It uses poison, very mild, no antidote and likely to wear off in a few hours. Nice to see you your grace," Clopin half-bowed, then made for some stairs to the right. The other two gypsy men followed Clopin with torches. Esmeralda walked up to Frollo, quickly took his hand and smiled before following the others.

"Where are we going?" asked Frollo quietly.

"St Martins. I'll explain on the way," hissed Esmeralda.

"Are you insane?" he hissed back. "The King will be there!"

"We truly hope so." She smiled again as they emerged into a large hallway. The group darted down a side-door, down another hallway and out onto a balcony. Clopin swung over the balcony without pausing for breath, and again was followed by one of the gypsy men. Esmeralda gestured to Frollo. "After you." Frollo hesitated – there was a twenty foot drop the other side. He looked down and saw a cart full of straw.

"And that's supposed to break my fall I take it?"

"Just jump!" insisted the other gypsy, nervously peering into the hallway through the curtains.

"Jaques, he's just a little concerned about heights."

"Is he more concerned about swords? There are twenty of them heading this way!" Jaques drew the curtains behind him and looked desperately at Frollo who, for his part, crossed himself quickly and jumped. He landed quite safely in the cart below.

"Were there really guards on their way?" asked Esmeralda, taking Jaques' hand to jump.

"No. But I wasn't prepared to argue until there were." They grinned at each other, checked over the side of the balcony, and jumped.


	9. Going to the Chapel

The cart sped away through the night.

"Why are we going there?" asked Frollo. Esmeralda, Frollo and Jaques were crouched in the back of the hay cart, heading towards St Martins where Phoebus was about to marry Fleur DeLys. Clopin and Pierre were driving, although that seemed too strong a word for roughly guiding the lurching cart through the Parisian crowds this morning. Failing to drive seemed more appropriate.

"To force the king to pardon you."

"You cannot. We would be better advised to head into the country and disappear – possibly to Rome. I've always liked the sound of Vatican City…"

"You would," Esmeralda muttered, more harshly than she meant to. Frollo bridled a little, but said nothing.

The ceremony had already started when the group arrived, the four men jumping down from the cart. Frollo raised a hand to help Esmeralda down and she took it, smiling sweetly at him. Clopin made a gagging noise in the back of his throat.

"When you two have quite finished, maybe we can continue?" They headed into the church, Frollo straightening his hat and Esmeralda surreptitiously picking straw off his cloak.

The congregation was droning a hymn as they entered the church. In the front pew to the left, Esmeralda could see the king sitting next to Minister Bourbon. Both were watching the young couple with mild interest. Esmeralda took a quick look at the bride. Fleur DeLys was wearing a pale blue gown, flowers knotted prettily into both her hair and the trim of the dress. She was truly stunning and Esmeralda felt a pang of jealousy. Then she looked up at Frollo and the feeling waned a little. The hymn ended and the congregation quietened.

"Here goes," whispered Clopin. He marched forward, flanked by Jaques and Pierre. Frollo and Esmeralda brought up the rear. As the group walked forwards, heads in the congregation turned to follow them, gasps and whispers chasing them up the aisle. Most of the senior politicians in Paris had assembled for this wedding, Monsieur DeLys, Fleur's father, being very influential in court. Esmeralda wondered why the cathedral had not been used for such a wedding, then shrugged off the curiosity in favour of staying alive. Their little group stopped in front of the king.

"Sorry to interrupt Captain Phoebus. This will only take a few moments," Pierre announced to the 'shocked' Phoebus and his bride. Pierre knew he had only moments before Bourbon or the king shouted for the guards. "It's about Bourbon's brothel bill sire – he hasn't paid it for a month and there's an army of whores outside waiting for their money." There was a stunned silence for a moment, until the susurration of fervent whispering re-started. Frollo closed his eyes slowly. He knew why the gypsy had chosen this particular phrase – he needed to stall the king's instinct to call the guards – but felt that Pierre had overstepped the boundaries of decency somewhat. Bourbon eased his way forward through the crowd. Esmeralda shuddered as the new Minister of Justice eyed her over before replying. He gave a little smirk before turning to Pierre.

"Are you sure you have the correct Minister, gypsy? I myself have never associated with the ladies of the night, unlike some…" he raised an eyebrow at Frollo, who missed the gesture as he was still wincing from Pierre's earlier comment. He caught the tone of voice however.

"Oh, but that is not correct sir. I have sent the king numerous accounts from my – acquaintances," started Frollo.

"Spies," interrupted Bourbon.

"Spies, yes, detailing your actions, aha, in the poor quarter."

"Your reports are of no significance Frollo as you well know." Bourbon gave a triumphant snarl at Frollo.

"Why not?" asked Monsieur DeLys. Bourbon faltered a little before continuing.

"Minister Frollo, the respected, decent, and hard-working Minister Frollo, is a traitor. We caught him last night. He was to be hanged this afternoon. I suppose we shall have to bring the execution forward a little." Bourbon grinned again.

"What did Minister Frollo do?" asked a woman from Phoebus' side of the church.

"He killed an English spy!"

"Surely that is to be applauded?" asked a gaunt man dressed in black that Esmeralda vaguely recognised as Minister Dubois.

"The spy, a mister Thomas Greenwood, was a dangerous spy caught in Paris last month. He held valuable information on a plot by the King of England to invade France. His survival was of the utmost importance. Frollo knew this and killed him anyway. Do you deny this sir?" Bourbon whirled around to face Frollo.

"No, I cannot deny it."

"Then you are guilty as charged. You deliberately disobeyed a direct order from your king and…"

"That can't be right. I caught Greenwood months ago at Cologne. He was nothing important and gave up the little information he held straight away. He was spying on our king, yes, but simply to find out if the king had any intentions of marrying." The speaker, a surly gentleman standing just behind the king, looked confused. "His majesty had ordered me to set the spy free, but then a group of soldiers arrived and brought him to Paris on your orders…" The man stopped, words failing him in the face of Bourbon's stare.

"Why did you kill the spy?" asked Dubois.

"I had visited the dungeons to interrogate the spy and he lashed out at me and tried to strangle me after I fell. I killed him in self-defence. The guards did not come when called. I had no other alternative." Frollo watched the faces of the judges around Bourbon. They were all, to a man, glaring at him with fixed, hard, eyes filled with rage. Only three, Gauche, Chevreuil, and Décharné looked vaguely disappointed that Frollo seemed to have a reasonable defence.

"Why didn't the guards come when called?" asked DuBois.

"They had been ordered not to," replied Phoebus, coming forward. "I was informed by a reliable source last night that Minister Bourbon has been conspiring with others to bring about Minister Frollo's downfall. The guards were ordered not to assist in the event of the drugged Greenwood attacking Minister Frollo."

"Is this true Bourbon?" demanded a noble who looked for all the world to be a hundred and eighty years old. "If so, you should remember what King Louis would have done to an ambitious cad such as yourself! Count yourself lucky it is his grandson you have to deal with."

"Of course it's not true!" retorted Bourbon angrily.

"Perhaps sir, you are claiming that my sources are not reliable?" replied Phoebus smoothly, glancing at the King ever so slightly. The monarch tensed.

"I am sure that Minister Bourbon had the best intentions behind his actions towards Minister Frollo, however they may have been, aha, later interpreted…" he babbled, nervously tapping the crown on his head.

"I am sure he did," drawled Frollo. "No doubt he disliked my treatment of the gypsies." There was a muffled murmur of agreement. "I must apologise for offending you Bourbon, but it was brought to my attention that it may be prudent to treat merchants and entertainers of the quality we see in the gypsy class a little better in order to bring mutual benefits to our two very different societies."

"I suppose your whore told you that did she?"

"Please do not talk about my fiancée like that Bourbon." There were a few, female, gasps around the room and some knowing snorts of laughter from some men.

"Fiancée? Don't make me laugh."

"The king has given me permission to marry La Esmeralda. I am indebted to his generosity." Frollo gave a bow to the king, who by now had turned crimson and was scarcely breathing in fright. The king nodded rapidly and gulped air. The crowd parted around Bourbon, who was clearly trying to think of some way out of this.

"Minister Bourbon, I am confused," stated Clopin. The congregation was now gathered as an audience around Bourbon, who was shaking, and Clopin, who was slowly circling the man. "You, a respected, albeit perverse, judge in Paris, a Minister in the King's court, plotted to bring about the fall of the great Minister of Justice, Claude Frollo," Clopin waved a hand at Frollo, who gave a smirk and a half-bow, "and to take his place as the King's advisor and Minister of Justice. Why would you do such a thing? Surely it couldn't be pride, ambition and a lust for power because we all know you wouldn't do something like that – would you?" Clopin let the sentence penetrate for a few moments before continuing. "Would you sir?"

"Minister Bourbon, it may be prudent for you to resign your post as Minister of Justice," interjected Frollo, "unless of course you would like this brought to a full trial, where the witness Phoebus mentioned would of course be called upon to testify?"

"No – no trial! I think the poor man has suffered enough," spluttered the King. "Hang him as a traitor."

"If I may sire, I believe we discussed banishment? That is the usual treatment for aristocratic lunacy, is it not?" Frollo raised a polite eyebrow at the King, who nodded in acquiescence. "Perhaps some of you gentlemen," Frollo gestured to the guards, "would be kind enough to escort Minister Bourbon home and help him to pack?" Four guards marched forward and escorted the now silent Bourbon from the church.

An uneasy silence descended on the congregation. It was broken by the king.

"It seems I was mistaken about you, Frollo. I would be honoured if you would take up the reins as Minister of Justice again."

"I accept with pleasure sire – although not for long I am afraid."

"Whyever not man?"

"I have always desired to visit Rome sire and have been planning to leave for some time. I would be happy to continue as Minister of Justice until a suitable replacement could be found however." He bowed to the king and gave a sly wink to DuBois.

"Of course." The moment passed and the tension drained from the air.

"We must be going sire – I have much to see to." Frollo held out his arm for Esmeralda and escorted her to the top of the aisle. He suddenly tapped his head with his hand and tutted. "Ever so sorry Phoebus – please, your grace," he nodded to the priest, "do continue."

Frollo and Esmeralda walked out of the church silently while behind them Phoebus married Fleur DeLys and a very worried King of France vowed to leave the politics of his court to his ministers from now on. At the bottom of the steps, Frollo took Esmeralda into his arms and tilted her chin upward with his hand.

"That could have gone very differently you know. We could have been killed upon entry to the church."

"Unlikely – Phoebus and his friends picked all the guards today."

"Still, without the support of the nobles and DuBois in particular, we would have been doomed."

"Yes. DuBois has always been a decent sort. And Marie and the old softy,"

"Lord Gunther?"

"Yes, indeed, Lord Gunther. They were very helpful. Monsieur DeLys of course wanted to protect his daughter's future husband and has always liked you."

"You planted the supporters?" Frollo's face froze.

"Not all of them. Enough to cause a snowballing effect to gain support for you." Esmeralda grinned up at Frollo. He hugged her close, then released her.

"You are truly amazing. You must thank your gypsy friends for me."

"You could thank them yourself."

"I think not my dear."

"Why not?"

"DuBois won't harm the gypsies and the king is too afraid his involvement in the plot against me will be revealed to insist that DuBois take action against them. I will of course no longer be Minister of Justice. I release you from your obligation to stay with me." He leaned over, kissed her lightly on the forehead, backed off and turned away. "You know, I've never loved anyone else Esmeralda." Gathering his cloak, Frollo walked away from her without turning. Esmeralda watched him leave the square in front of the church, her heart pounding.

She was free. Her people were free. Phoebus was married. She was free to do whatever she wanted. She could choose to do whatever she wanted and to go wherever she wanted to go. It was her choice, not her guilt or her obligations that could drive her now. She looked up at the church and grinned to herself.

"I hear Rome's lovely this time of year," she whispered to the tower, before running after Frollo.

THE END

**So sorry it took so long to complete! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you think. MA XXX**


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